


Christmas, Lost in Your Bloodstream

by AngelOfTheMoor



Series: A Light That Never Comes [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas, Fluff, M/M, Schmoop, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 22:29:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelOfTheMoor/pseuds/AngelOfTheMoor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The gang spends Christmas at Bobby's. Castiel and Dean spend Christmas night lost in each other.</p><p>Set a few weeks after "A Light That Never Comes," but this fic can stand alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas, Lost in Your Bloodstream

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: _Supernatural_ doesn't belong to me. 
> 
> This story is set a few weeks after _A Light That Never Comes_ , which takes place in an alternate universe where the supernatural still exists.
> 
> Writing smut is difficult for me, so I hope this is all right.

The four of them had left Picketsville almost three weeks ago, first pursuing a case in Mount Pleasant, Texas. Jessica and Castiel proved surprisingly competent considering their status as newbie hunters. At first, Dean assigned Castiel the most harmless tasks, but Castiel, perturbed at this treatment, asserted he was “not a delicate flower,” and when they moved on to a hunt in Ardmore, Oklahoma, Castiel demonstrated his mettle.

On December 23, while Dean and Sam searched the Internet for a potential case, Jessica and Castiel noted that Christmas was in two days. The brothers Winchester shrugged and returned to their laptops, to the chagrin of both former librarians. They wouldn’t drop the subject, and soon they learned Sam and Dean had never celebrated Christmas properly. Half the time, their dad had been AWOL, and when they were kids, Dean spent several years stealing presents for Sam and claiming they were from their dad until Sam found out.

Castiel and Jessica believed the Winchesters needed a special Christmas this year, and they insisted the four of them should return to Picketsville for the holiday. Sam grew excited at the prospect and readily agreed, and so a reluctant Dean had no choice but to go along.

Which was how Castiel and Dean ended up at Bobby’s on Christmas morning. Sam and Jessica were visiting the Moores and would arrive this afternoon. Meanwhile, Bobby, Castiel, and Dean prepared the Christmas meal, Bobby smoking the turkey and making the stuffing and Castiel baking a pecan pie. Dean had a copy of his mother’s apple pie recipe, and he decided to try it out for the first time, seeming more excited than he would probably care to admit. Bobby turned on the Saints game as they waited for the food to finish. Castiel wasn’t a fan of football, but Dean became enthusiastic about the game, and soon he and Bobby were bonding over beer and sports. Castiel smiled over the book he was reading, pleased his father figure was warming up to Dean.

Not long after the football game ended (with the Saints victorious), Sam and Jessica arrived, their cheeks rosy from the unusual cold outside. It was about twenty degrees, a temperature most Northern Louisianans were not equipped to handle. They settled on the loveseat, and Bobby poured glasses of eggnog then passed them around to his guests. Afterward, he gulped down his own.

“Wow, Mr. Singer, you sure put a lot of alcohol in this,” Dean observed from his perch next to Castiel on the couch.

“That’s Bobby to you,” Bobby corrected as he rocked in the recliner. “And yeah. It’s not real eggnog without a good dose of Southern Comfort.”

“Bobby likes his eggnog strong,” Castiel commented as he sipped his glass.

“So,” Bobby asked, “should we do food or presents first?”

“Presents,” Sam answered, patting his belly. “Jess’s parents stuffed us senseless.”

Jessica rolled her eyes. “You were practically begging for seconds.”

“Your mom’s a good cook,” Sam returned with.

“All right. So, presents it is,” Bobby concluded.

Castiel sprang to his feet and ambled toward the small Christmas tree he and Bobby had decorated together the day after Thanksgiving. “I’ll pass them out,” he volunteered as he picked up a box. He and Dean had unloaded the gifts as soon as they'd arrived. After distributing the presents, Castiel inquired, “Who wants to go first?”

“I’ll go,” Dean said shamelessly. Castiel resumed his spot next to him on the sofa. Dean had three gifts next to him: one from Sam, one from Castiel, and one from Bobby. Castiel raised his eyebrows to Bobby, astonished he’d bought Dean something. He’d gotten Sam something as well, and Jessica, as always. “Which one should I open first?”

“Whichever one you want,” Castiel replied.

“Hmm.” He picked up Sam’s gift. “Let’s see what ya got me, Sammy.” He tore open the wrapping paper and snapped open the box to reveal two plaid flannel shirts, one red and one blue. “Clothes. How exciting,” he offered sarcastically.

“Half of your shirts are faded,” Sam explained. “I didn’t think you’d buy yourself new ones, so—”

“Thanks, Sam. I always need shirts.”

“Who’s next?” Castiel asked.

“How about you?”

“Me? Hmm. All right.” He had four gifts: one from both Winchesters, one from Dean, one from Jessica, and one from Bobby. He chose the one from both Winchesters, opening the bag and removing the tissue to discover a revolver. “A gun?”

“There’s somethin’ else in there,” Dean said.

“Oh?” He reached into the bag and pulled out a case of salt pellets.

“Figured you’d need that now you’re in the hunting business.”

Castiel nodded. “Yes. Very useful. Thank you, Dean, Sam.”

Jessica also had a bag from both Winchesters, and it contained a gun and salt pellets, too. She turned to Sam, who flushed.

“Like Dean said. If you’re a hunter, you’re gonna need one.”

She beamed. “Thank you. You don’t know . . . it’s an honor.” Castiel understood what Jessica meant. Receiving their weapons was akin to a rite of passage, an indication the Winchesters had fully accepted them into their world.

Sam unwrapped a gift from Dean next, a brand of costly cologne Sam liked.

And so the gift-giving continued. Jessica received a leather-bound journal from Castiel and a fountain pen from Bobby. (He and Bobby had purposefully procured presents that would pair together.) She gasped at the gold necklace from Sam.

From Jessica, Castiel received a tome on demonology she’d seen him eyeing at an occult bookstore in Dallas when the four of them had stopped there on the way to Ardmore. Dean flipped through the pages and agreed it might come in handy. Bobby’s present to Castiel was a photo album that had formerly belonged to the Novaks; he had found it in his attic. Castiel glanced through the pictures and was stunned to find baby photos; he’d never seen any representations of his younger self. When he shut the book, he ran his fingers over the cracked spine and thanked Bobby with tears in his eyes.

Castiel had saved Dean’s gift for last. He dug into the bag and discovered a black leather jacket. Dean had been pestering Castiel to replace his singed overcoat, but Castiel was fond of it and so had refused. But this jacket . . . he felt the material, and he could tell the jacket had been expensive.

“Whaddaya think, Cas?” Dean asked a little shyly.

Castiel tried it on, and it fit him perfectly. He went to the bathroom and studied himself in Bobby’s mirror; the jacket did look good on him. When he returned to the living room, he answered, “I love it.” Dean smiled, and Castiel removed the jacket.

Sam’s gifts included vegetarian cookbooks from Jessica (though neither she nor Sam was a vegetarian, they did share an affinity for healthy eating) and a law book from Bobby. (Castiel had informed Bobby about Sam’s former plans to attend law school.)

Bobby had gotten Dean a Swiss army knife, which Dean seemed thrilled about. Finally, he opened Castiel’s present, a vintage record player Castiel had found in Dallas. He’d discovered a set of records in the Imapala’s trunk, but no record player, a situation he’d chosen to rectify.

“This is awesome, Cas,” Dean marveled. “Thanks.”

“You are very welcome,” Castiel responded with a smile.

Jessica had bought Bobby a toolbox because the one he owned was halfway rusted while Castiel had bought him a hunting knife the man had admired in a catalog. The Winchesters had gotten him a rosary and some holy water.

“What’s this?” Bobby grumbled.

“In case you, y’know, run into a ghost or somethin’,” Dean said with a blush. “It’s good to be prepared.”

“Thanks?”

“It’s a little weird, I know,” Sam cut in. “But trust me, when it comes to the supernatural, those are essential. Every hunter has those.”

“Then why didn’t you get that for me and Cas?” Jessica interjected.

“Um, well, we thought you should have a weapon first since you’re on the job.”

“We’ve got plenty of holy water in the trunk,” Dean pointed out. “And first chance we get, we can take ya to get your own rosaries.”

“How lovely. Rosaries, holy water, and guns with salt bullets. Who knew our lives could be so adventuresome, Cas?” Jessica gibed. Castiel laughed softly.

“I guess it’s the thought that counts,” Bobby concluded. “Thanks, y’all,” he added in a more serious tone.

“’Welcome,” Sam and Dean replied in unison.

Bobby cleared his throat. “As long as you two are with Cas, I want you to consider me family. Any friend a Cas’s is a friend a mine. Just ask Jess . . . she’s like family to Cas, so she’s like family to me.”

Jessica reddened. “Thank you, Bobby,” she said.

“Thanks,” Sam echoed.

“Yeah, thanks,” Dean put in. He made the words sound like an afterthought, but there was something so earnest in his voice, a peculiar light in his mossy green eyes, that showed he was touched by Bobby’s words. “Can we eat now? I’m fuckin’ starving.”

“I’m still full,” Sam objected.

“Hey, Samantha, some of us haven’t eaten all freakin’ day, okay?”

Sam looked mortified by the nickname, but Jessica enfolded his hand in hers, which seemed to calm him.

“Yeah, let’s eat,” Bobby agreed.

While the others filed into the kitchen, Castiel stayed back and thanked Bobby for his kindness to the Winchesters. Bobby, as was his wont, brushed off the remark and acted as if the gesture had meant nothing, yet Castiel knew better.

The meal was smaller than that of most families, Castiel knew, but the food was wonderful all the same. Dean’s apple pie had a delicious buttery crust, and he told Dean it was the best apple pie he’d ever had (which was the truth). He understood then why Dean was so fond of apple pie. Dean praised Castiel’s pecan pie, saying that it was “almost as good as apple,” a high compliment given Dean’s love for apple pie.

After they finished eating, Jessica and Sam left for Jessica’s house while Castiel and Dean went to Castiel’s. Bobby cautioned them to be careful since the weather forecast had mentioned an ice storm, but Castiel dismissed his worries. After all, severe winter weather hardly ever happened in Northern Louisiana.

xxxxxxxxxx

Dean and Castiel were in the middle of a _Twilight Zone_ marathon when the electricity went out.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean hissed.

Castiel temporarily used his cell phone as a flashlight until he’d dug out the electric lantern from the laundry room. It had already been chilly in the house before the electricity had gone out, but the fire he’d built was now dying, so he restoked it. He grabbed all the spare blankets and piled them in the living room beside the fire, where he and Dean huddled, attempting in vain to warm themselves up.

“What should we do now?” Castiel ventured.

Dean leaned in, forcing Castiel to his back, pinning his wrists to the ground, his lips almost brushing Castiel’s. “I’ve got an idea,” he breathed.

“Yes?” Castiel loved teasing Dean, playing the ridiculously naïve ingénue.

“Lots of ideas.” He planted his lips on Castiel’s, and as always, the taste was divine. Castiel licked into Dean’s mouth, his tongue exploring the roof. Dean shoved a hand into Castiel’s hair, running the hand through it rhythmically. Castiel loved when Dean tugged at his hair.

Dean released Castiel’s wrists, and they pulled away for a second, gasping for oxygen, then they were at it again. Castiel placed a hand on Dean’s torso, rolling his shirt up slowly and worshipping Dean’s chest with his hands.

“Jesus Christ, it’s fuckin’ cold,” Dean complained.

Castiel tilted his head up to meet Dean’s eyes. “Then why is your skin so warm?” he teased.

In the shadowy light from the lantern, Dean’s ruddy complexion contrasted sharply with his freckles. “You know why,” he rumbled, the voice racing to Castiel’s groin.

Castiel quirked an eyebrow. “Do I?”

Dean drew his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. “Your turn.” He unbuttoned Castiel’s shirt slowly, nipping at Castiel’s bottom lip as he completed the action. Once the shirt was open, his lips moved down Castiel’s neck, stopping at his clavicle to bite and suck. Castiel gasped, sensation consuming him.

“This. Off. Now,” Dean ordered. Castiel shivered, further inflamed by Dean’s commanding tone. He sat up, shook off the shirt, and lay back down. The embers cast golden highlights in Dean’s dirty blonde hair, and Castiel closed his eyes, suddenly overwhelmed by the beauty before him. Dean pecked each of his eyelids, and Castiel pried his eyes open, watching as Dean’s hands caressed the skin from his chest down to his waist. He sighed with pleasure. “Much better,” Dean murmured before sucking at the notch on Castiel’s hipbone. A hand snaked underneath his waistband, underneath his boxers, and grasped his dick. Castiel thrashed, the iciness of Dean’s fingers heightening his desire. Dean stroked up and down the shaft, and Castiel moaned as he bucked up involuntarily.

With his free hand, Dean unzipped Castiel’s jeans and tore them downward, along with the boxers. “That’s it,” he whispered, his tone lustful.

Castiel unbuttoned Dean’s jeans and muttered, “These need to be off, too.” Dean allowed Castiel to peel off first his jeans then his boxers, after which Castiel enclosed a tentative hand around Dean’s cock. Dean had pleasured him before, but he’d never returned the favor. It was time for him to do so, he decided.

“Cas . . . ” Dean whined as Castiel rubbed a thumb over Dean’s length. With his other hand, Castiel cupped the back of Dean’s head and pulled him down so he lay atop Castiel, their bodies flush against each other. He smashed his lips against Dean’s, shunting his tongue into Dean’s mouth, continuing his ministrations all the while. Dean still had a hand firmly around Castiel’s cock. Castiel pulled back for air then bit Dean’s nipple, sucking his own mark into Dean’s skin. Dean dropped Castiel’s cock and groaned. A moment later, Castiel released Dean’s penis, and their dicks touched. Castiel felt electricity surge through his skin, and he rutted upward, Dean’s actions mirroring his own. Dean kneaded Castiel’s ass with one hand, and Castiel didn’t know how much more he could take. Dean’s finger swirled at his rim, and he wanted Dean, Dean _inside_ , but no, he didn’t think, this was all too fast, he was frightened, he—

He scooted away from Dean, who frowned. “What’s wrong, Cas?”

Castiel drew his legs up to his chin. “Nothing. I just—I’m afraid we might be going too fast.”

“We don’t have to do . . . _that_ , if you don’t want to,” Dean reminded him for the millionth time.

“I know.” His eyes darted to Dean’s, that perfect hazel-green color. “But I do. Want to.”

“Oh.” Dean suddenly sounded timid, his voice barely audible. The shadows of flames danced against Dean’s cheeks. “And you’re scared?”

Castiel nodded. “Yes. I’ve never . . . y’know, and you’ve done it so many times. What if I’m no good?” _What if you don’t want me anymore after you find out I’m no good?_

“Cas . . . ” He swept his fingertips over Castiel’s cheekbone. “I’ll love you no matter what. Besides, you’ll be fine.”

“What did you say?” Castiel spluttered.

“I said you’ll do—”

“No, not that. You said . . . you love me?” His heart burst . . . love . . . he thought he might love Dean, too, now that he permitted himself to feel it. Perhaps he had known Dean for only a month, but . . . he thought he might want to keep Dean forever, and wasn’t that love?

Dean withdrew his fingers and turned away. “Forget it. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Oh.” Now he was the one who sounded small. His eyes watered, tears dripping down his cheeks in rivulets.

Dean stared at the fire for a few minutes before turning back to Castiel. He flinched when he caught a glimpse of his face. “Christ, Cas, what’d I say?”

He reached for Castiel’s hand, but Castiel jerked it back. “You’re an asshole, Dean Winchester,” he articulated through gritted teeth. He swung around, presenting his back to Dean.

“Cas . . . whatever it was, I’m sorry.”

Castiel whirled around to meet Dean’s shrinking gaze. “You don’t get to say stuff like that, Dean. Not if you’re going to take it back.”

“Oh.” The syllable sounded as if it’d been punched out of Dean.

“What if it just so happened—what if,” Castiel sniffled, “what if I loved you, too?”

“Oh.” He threw an arm around Castiel’s shoulders and pulled him closer, whispering in his ear, “Cas. I do love you.” He briefly nibbled Castiel’s earlobe then drew back. “I’m sorry. It’s just . . . ” He wrung his hands. “I’m scared, too, okay? This is new to me. I’ve never—y’know.” He blushed.

 _Never been in love. Neither have I, Dean_. He squeezed Dean’s hand and kissed the faint lines beside Dean’s eyes. “I love you,” he whispered into Dean’s left ear. With his lips, he traveled across Dean’s neck to the other ear, whispering again, “I love you.”

“What do you think?” Dean asked once Castiel finished. “Are we ready?”

“Yes.”

“Cool.” He disappeared and returned a moment later with lube and a condom. “How about you . . . on top?” he stammered. “That way, we’ll both be doing something new.”

“Are you sure?” Castiel had thought Dean would want to be the top, that he would protest if Castiel ever suggested the reverse. Yet here he was, offering to let Castiel—

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Him inside Dean. _Inside. Dean._ A breathy sigh escaped through parted lips. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted.

“Just use the lube. You’ve gotta prep me first. Y’know, with your fingers before . . . ” He reclined against the blankets and urged, “C’mon.”

Castiel poured a generous dollop and spread it over his fingers. He inserted the first finger, entranced as it vanished up to his knuckle, and Dean drew in a sharp breath. “Are you all right?” Castiel asked.

“Yeah. Go on, for God’s sake.”

Castiel crooked his finger, touching every part of Dean inside he could reach. After a while, he added another finger. As he scissored the two fingers, he began to stroke Dean’s cock again. He peppered Dean’s skin with kisses, starting with the lips and moving down, down, down, until he was just above Dean’s dick. He bit down there, so hard he drew blood, which he licked clean, and Dean whimpered, bucking against him faster, faster, faster—

Another finger. And another.

“You. In me. Now,” Dean eventually growled.

Castiel pulled out his fingers and handed Dean the lube. “Would you like to do the honors?”

“Fuck yeah.” Dean coated Castiel’s dick with the lube, Castiel growing harder at the contact, pre-cum leaking out of him as Dean fitted on the condom.

“Are you ready?” Castiel asked when he was done.

In answer, Dean lay back down and spread his legs. Castiel took a deep breath to steady himself, lined himself up, and then—

_Inside. Dean._

Dean all around him, him seeping into Dean’s bloodstream and Dean seeping into his. He gawked for a moment, awed by the sight of the two of them joined.

“Fuckin’ move, Cas,” Dean huffed.

He grasped a tuft of Dean’s hair, something to hold on to as he thrust inside Dean, _farther_ , _farther, farther_ , touching every inch of Dean’s skin he could with fingertips and lips, Dean urging him to go _harder, faster, Cas, yeah, right there_ —that sweet spot Castiel ensured he hit again and again.

Castiel felt as if he would explode, and he held on tight, afraid of what would happen, sweat beading on his brow—

“Let go, Cas. Let go,” Dean whispered against his neck, and that was enough to send him over the edge, sheathed fully inside Dean as he chanted his lover’s name like a prayer. He collapsed against Dean, shaking as he came down from the blinding high.

Once he regained his breath, tied off the condom, and threw it at a nearby trash can, he realized Dean hadn’t come yet. “Let me take care of you,” he said as he took Dean’s dick into his mouth, heeding instinct. Dean buried a hand in Castiel’s hair, holding him in place as he shoved into his lover’s mouth, and Castiel could feel the heat building within Dean, and he—

With a strangled shout, all three syllables of Castiel's name falling from his lips, Dean spurted into Castiel’s mouth, hips stuttering (a mesmerizing sight), before falling limp against the blankets. Unsure of what to do with the substance, Castiel swallowed it.

Dean’s eyes widened. “Christ. You didn’t have to do that.”

Castiel shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

Dean laughed. “Here. You’ve still got something.” He grabbed Castiel’s wrist and pulled him down, licking at the dribble lingering at the corner of Castiel’s mouth. He wrapped his arms around Castiel as he covered both of them with the blankets. Castiel pillowed his head on Dean’s chest, and Dean smoothed a hand through Castiel’s hair.

“We should do that again,” Castiel decided.

“What, now? Dunno if I could get it up again so soon.”

Castiel smiled to himself. “No, not now. But sometime.”

“Yeah. You were pretty amazing. Sure it was your first time?”

Castiel chuckled gently, pleased with Dean’s praise. “Yes.”

They lay there, peaceful and silent except for the crackling fire. Castiel had been almost lulled into sleep when the doorbell jerked him out of his reverie. It rang persistently.

“Fuck. Who could that be?” Dean groused.

“I don’t know. But I suppose I better see who it is.” _Or we’ll have to listen to the doorbell all night_. He tied one of the blankets around his waist and padded to the front door, the cold prickling his skin with goosebumps.

He flung the door open to an irate Bobby. “What’s wrong with your damn phone?” he shouted as he stepped inside. “I’ve been callin’ your ass all night, wonderin’ if you were okay. Let me tell you, the streets are hell.—”

“We’re all right, Bobby, thank you,” Castiel assured him, eager for Bobby to leave before he discovered what he and Dean—

Horrified, Castiel followed Bobby as he traipsed closer to the fireplace, where Dean—

“Hiya, Bobby,” Dean called without even a smidge of concern. Castiel bent down to pick up his phone.

“Sorry, Bobby,” Castiel said. “My phone died. But as I said, we are—”

But Bobby seemed not to have heard him, astonishment creeping over his features. “Christ, I don’t wanna know about this—” He spun around and raced out of the house.

Dean chortled, and Castiel glared at him until he stopped.

xxxxxxxxxx

A couple of days later, once the ice had melted and temperatures had returned to normal, the four of them bid Bobby adieu and departed for a hunt in Bisbee, Arizona, Dean gushing about the opportunity to visit the site featured in _3:10 to Yuma_. When Castiel asked which version he was referring to, Dean said both but rambled about how the original couldn’t be beat. Dean and his enthusiasm about westerns . . . it was cute.

Something had changed between Sam and Jessica, Castiel observed. Jessica had a vivacious glow to her, and Sam gazed at her with warmth in his eyes.

They were in love.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: _Supernatural_ doesn't belong to me.
> 
> I was originally going to include a scene with just Jess and Sam, but it seemed out of sync to me since the rest of the story is from Castiel's POV.
> 
> I think the timeline might be off if Thanksgiving is taken into account, but I wanted Castiel and Dean to have been together for a few weeks before this story takes place. Also, there will be no New Orleans Saints game on Christmas. Please excuse these artistic liberties.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! I hope this fic was enjoyable. Comments are welcome! As are kudos! :)


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